


Perfectly Composed

by Aurumite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/pseuds/Aurumite
Summary: The official portrait of Leonster's royal family is planned ahead of time, down to the final detail.With two young children, plans are basically useless.





	Perfectly Composed

**Author's Note:**

> For the Jugdral fan anthology, "Under the Same Sky."

The Leonster family portrait was carefully planned to showcase the house's natural grace and majesty: Lord Quan seated by a sunlit window, the light gilding his clever eyes and sharp jaw, the wine-coloured curtain behind him carefully parted to frame and contrast his dark hair, and that of the equally dark firstborn daughter daintily perched in his lap. Every frill and spray of Lady Altena's pale gown would be carefully arranged, elaborate and innocent enough for a princess of her status. The artist meant to capture a serene posture and a sweet, pink smile. By Quan's side, a natural and perfect head below him, would be his wife Ethlyn, in the puffed sleeves and dramatic orange silk that was the height of fashion this season. It would bring colour to her pale cheeks and a glow to her elaborately pinned hair, and would guide the viewer of the painting down with her tender gaze to the new child cradled in her strong but delicate arms. Prince Leif's brown eyes would be open, wide and ponderous for his age, and despite his little size he would be perfectly fitted with the shining gold-buttoned boots and stainless white cravat of his kingdom's military tradition. The artist would be generous portraying the now-wispy hair on his little head.

Obviously, that's not how it happens.

Instead the painter's hands shake with frustration, because they've been at this for half an hour and he's losing the proper daylight. Leif screws up his eyes and screams louder than such a tiny set of lungs should be able to, while Altena takes advantage of the chaos to squirm and kick her feet despite her parents' chiding. Their right-hand knight is also in the picture, kneeling and cajoling, practically in Quan's lap with the girl.

“This is boring!” Altena shouts. “I want to play with Finn!”

“You must sit still for the portrait, my lady,” Finn insists. She's a squirming tangle that would be on the floor if not for Quan's constant, vigilant re-scooping. Her dress is already irreparably wrinkled. “We can play after.”

Altena pauses as her eyes narrow, suspicious.

“What will we play?”

“Whatever you like.”

Leif continues to scream. His little hand clenches in the fabric of Ethlyn's neckline and pulls, ruining the careful alignment against her pearls. She doesn't seem concerned but the painter almost splinters his brush in his grip.

“Someone's so tired,” Ethlyn murmurs, setting her brow against Leif's.

“I want to be the bride,” Altena is saying to Finn, “and you can be the groom.”

“Yes, Finn,” Quan agrees with a grin.

“My lord, you shouldn't encourage—”

Altena flings off a leather shoe and Ethlyn snatches it out of the air just in time.

“Well done, my love,” says Quan.

Finn takes the shoe from Ethlyn and attempts to fasten it back onto Altena, though she's kicking again.

“Sir!” the painter snaps. “I cannot capture Lady Altena if she is squirming, no, but it's far harder with you in the way!”

“Finn,” Quan answers, smile gone, “is never in the way.”

“Perhaps we should try again after Leif has napped,” Ethlyn suggests. Despite the demure softness of her words, she stands at once, breaking the entire frame of reference. Quan pecks the top of Altena's head before he allows her to slide to the ground.

A nursemaid appears in the doorway and Ethlyn hands Leif to her. The sounds of his cries—and the patter of Altena running after, insisting on helping with her baby brother, Finn completely forgotten—soon fade down the hallway.

“I guess it was foolish to think this would be easy,” Ethlyn sighs to Quan as she straightens her neckline. “But perhaps if you and I pose twice...once with the children, later, and once now with Finn...”

“With me?” Finn repeats, incredulous. Quan shoots him an equally bemused look.

“Well, of course. Did you think you wouldn't stand in our portrait? We only needed your help keeping the children still, first.”

“My lord, I could never presume to—”

“He should stand behind your left side, Quan,” Ethlyn interrupts gaily. “Perhaps with a hand settled on your shoulder? That would look so handsome.”

Quan nods his assent and the painter stares at his canvas in something like dismay. He had not accounted for this in the composition. Finn seems completely unable to move until Ethlyn takes his arm and ushers him behind Quan.

“There,” she says, rubbing his back a little. He looks over at her—down at her, he realizes, for in Silesia he shot up an entire head. She gives him her brightest smile before she returns to her seat next to her husband.

For the next hour they remain in position, Quan quipping every time the artist dabs at new paint, Ethlyn giggling over how lovely the finished product will look over the hearth in their bedchamber. The artist wearily re-envisions everything from Finn's presence to the fading afternoon light. For that hour there is only an amiable quiet. He gets the three adults well-blocked and moves on to several fine details.

And then the nursemaid returns with Leif and Altena, the former bleary and the latter cranky with her own need for a nap, and the chaos begins again.

 


End file.
